For Every Cloud There’s a Silver Lining

I came home from work tonight at 6:30. I was fully prepared to chill for a few minutes, and then log in and get back to work again, as I’ve been doing nearly every night for the last three weeks or so.

I walked up the stairs to the bedroom, looking forward to taking off my ass-kickin’ boots and jeans and throwing on a pair of jammie bottoms. I was tired. All day long I had a pain behind my left eye that could only be described as if my retina was too small for my eyeball and couldn’t keep up with the strain of processing colors and shapes all day long.

I reached the top of the stairs and was assaulted with a foul odor that instantly burned the inside of my nose. I held my breath as I grudgingly made for the bedroom door, behind which the dogs had been all day long. I opened the door and the stink oozed from behind the door and poured into the hallway. I braced myself against the wall, let out a breath and tried to no avail to take in a clean one again. I switched on the light and saw the offending brown and red smeared into the carpet. Tears formed in my eyes, and I hid my nose and mouth behind my shirt. I saw that one of the dogs had a nasty accident on the carpet, and I couldn’t tell whether the red was blood, or that the offending hound had ingested something red.

I sighed, and lamented not staying later at the office. I headed for the stairs and opened the under sink arsenal. I armed myself with carpet cleaner, fabreze, rubber gloves, scrub brush, plastic bags, air freshener and a candle. I knelt on the bedroom floor and sprayed, scrubbed, sprayed and scrubbed again.

The phone rang, and I answered it without checking the caller ID. “Hi Ms. Blahblah, this is Jen from your undergrad alma mater. How are you doing tonight?”

“Well Jen, not so hot.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, cheerfully.

“Well, I just got home from work, and my dog's bowels had exploded on the bedroom carpet while I was gone. I am now scrubbing poo from my carpet.”

At that point I swore I heard a giggle. I listened closer, and sure enough the giggle grew into a chuckle. Then Jen couldn’t control herself anymore, and let out a full laugh. A laugh. A telemarketer laughed at me, for the patheticness of my existence. There I was, practically asphyxiating from not wanting to breathe, and a telemarketer was laughing at my plight in my ear. This is a person whose job is to call people and annoy them, and she was laughing at me because at that moment her life was way better than mine.

“Well, I guess it’s not such a good time for you, is it?” she asked after managing to collect herself. “I’ll try you at another time,” she giggled and hung up the phone. I could imagine Jen dabbing the laughter tears from her eyes before she could call and annoy the next alum on the list.

So I think I’ve cracked the code on telemarketers. The way to get rid of them, apparently does not lie in the do not call list. All that needs to be done is to talk about dog poo.